


Here Comes the Rain Again

by Nebbles



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Established Relationship, Flashbacks, Glenn Fraldarius Lives, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Modern AU, Past Abuse, Thunderstorms, they have a pet cat and that's very important
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 12:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24970027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nebbles/pseuds/Nebbles
Summary: It’s been eleven years since he’s lived with the Fraldarius family, and just a few since he and Felix have moved in together. Eleven years, and he can still recall that day all too clearly, as if his mind refuses to let go of such a memory.It would be too easy otherwise, wouldn’t it? He hears Felix murmur something else of reassurance, but his thoughts linger elsewhere, to places he wishes were unknown.A roll of thunder, one that rattles the windows with a mighty roar, makes Sylvain remember the first time they ever fought.He isn’t sure why.-----Sylvain's fear of thunderstorms rears its ugly head once more, and brings along just as unpleasant memories in its wake.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 23
Kudos: 127





	Here Comes the Rain Again

Sylvain  _ hates  _ thunderstorms. 

It’s a childish fear to have at his age, but every roll of thunder causes his stomach to coil, for his face to bury deeper into the pillow. Every flash of lighting shows him Miklan’s face, obscured in shadows, eyes bright and piercing in the darkness. They remind him of being lost in the forest, soaked to the bone as he cried for someone,  _ anyone  _ to bring him home. They remind him of the old treehouse he and Miklan had as a child, and how his brother saw it fit to shove him out the window.

He remembers every broken bone, the pneumonia he caught, and how he just lied to his friends with a tight-lipped smile, saying that he’s fine. Accidents happen, right? There’s nothing to worry about. It’s just the way things are.

His mind replays it all, whirring like a broken projector, the same scene burning itself into his mind. Every flash offers a new scenario, some worse than others, some daring for a weak cry to barely leave his throat.

It’s something he hates about himself. It’s something he wishes he could discard, but no matter how hard he wills it, the fear roots itself deep. Years of pain rolls by like the clouds overhead, memories scattering like raindrops. Each howl of the wind carries Miklan’s taunts (he’s  _ pathetic _ , he can hear, his sneer louder than thunder) branches scraping together like nails on a chalkboard. 

When a flash of lightning bathes the room in an eerie glow is when Sylvain finally moves to cling to the person next to him, fingers digging into the back of his shirt. He hasn’t been this bad in some time, and perhaps that's why he’s feeling this so intensely. 

“Syl,” Felix whispers, rubbing his back, “I’m right here. No one’s going to hurt you.”

It’s not rare he hears that nickname. Felix’s been calling him that since they were children, and it always offers some comforts. When it’s in situations like this, where his past creeps around the corner and under the floorboards is when it helps the most. He’s never been more thankful to have Felix through this all, even if it took years to admit what was happening at home.

It’s been eleven years since he’s lived with the Fraldarius family, and just a few since he and Felix have moved in together. Eleven years, and he can still recall that day all too clearly, as if his mind refuses to let go of such a memory. 

It would be too easy otherwise, wouldn’t it? He hears Felix murmur something else of reassurance, but his thoughts linger elsewhere, to places he wishes were unknown.

A roll of thunder, one that rattles the windows with a mighty roar, makes Sylvain remember the first time they ever fought.

He isn’t sure why.

**\-----------------------------------------------**

After Felix asks what’s going on, for about the twentieth or so time, Sylvain wordlessly rolls up the sleeve on his jacket to reveal a bruised, splotched with ugly shades of purple and yellow. There’s more like them, some darker and nastier in colors, coiling around his ribcage. It’s one of many, and it’s hardly the first. 

Felix looks at Sylvain as if he’s about to throw up.

“Miklan’s been hitting me ever since we were kids.”

When Felix meets him with a wordless, cold stare, he rolls the sleeve down and looks about anywhere else. Who is he ashamed of? Himself, for doing this to Felix? Miklan, for years of continued abuse? His parents? 

The silence is damning, and Sylvain hates it. Felix’s eyes are wide, beset with fear, face pale.

“Syl,” he croaks, “Sylvain.” The way Felix barely spits out his name, unable to move past a whisper, is worse than the silence itself.

The way Felix’s eyes fill with tears causes regret to weigh heavily, threatening to crush Sylvain’s heart as it stands. 

Sylvain normally adores Felix’s crybaby tendencies, how his cheeks puff out in the most adorable way, in how  _ cute _ he just tends to be. This isn’t quite the time to think about that though, isn’t it? What’s wrong with him, if that’s the first thought that comes to mind?

After saying such a terrible thing, Sylvain isn’t sure why he expects Felix to do anything but cry. He expects Felix to be angry, to have annoyance bubble forth at the fact he’s burdening him with such a terrible secret.

_ ‘I should’ve kept my mouth shut,’  _ is the only phrase that runs through his mind.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Felix’s eyes show nothing but betrayal. “I thought best friends didn’t keep secrets from each other!” 

“How was I supposed to tell you?” Sylvain’s fingers curl around the sleeves of his jacket, nails burying themselves into its fabric. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Fe.”

Felix visibly bristles, almost, in the way he glowers at Sylvain as he wipes at his eyes. “I… I would’ve protected you!”

An image flashes in Sylvain’s mind, one he wishes to banish to its furthest corners. He can’t let Miklan hurt Felix. It’s something he’ll never forgive himself for, and it’s one of many reasons he didn’t want to say a damn word. But vulnerability isn’t a thing he wishes to show, so his mind defaults to the worst possible option. 

“You wouldn’t have been able to.” Hardly the best thing Sylvain can say, and it’s on purpose; it’s meant to hurt. By the look in Felix’s eyes, Sylvain sees his little mission, the beginnings of self-sabotage, stir between them.

It’s a defense mechanism. It’s going to prevent him from hurting others, preventing Felix from bruises he should never have, preventing Sylvain from entangling others in the poor mess he calls life.

If he drives everyone away, he can’t hurt them. They can’t hurt him. Their lives will move on with Sylvain, without him causing trouble and dragging them down. Miklan will never threaten them, he won’t have to worry about his friends (he doesn’t deserve them), they can forget Sylvain ever existed and it’d be better, Miklan’s  _ right,  _ saints he’s right, he deserves every hit, he’s stolen his life, he doesn’t deserve a single of his “natural talents”--

“Sylvain!” Felix’s voice, sharpened like a hungry blade, cleaves his thoughts in half. “Why aren’t you answering me?”

It’s the first time empty eyes blink at Felix, unsure of what answers there are to offer. 

There’s a reason why Sylvain never held much interest in opening up about what home’s like. And now he’s gone and slipped up, he’s made Felix cry, he’s gone and ruined their relationship because he isn’t all smiles and clever quips. No one’s going to want to be friends with someone like him, and it’s all Sylvain continues to think as he continues to hear angry sniffles fill the air.

“I’m sorry, Fe.”

He isn’t really sure if he is or not.

**\-----------------------------------------------**

When Sylvain’s quiet, it’s usually never a good sign. Felix isn’t expecting him to be the greatest conversationalist at the moment, but he  _ tries  _ to stay with him for situations like this. Yes, Felix knows it’s not uncommon to have bad days, but Sylvain hasn’t gone this unresponsive in a while.

He drifts a hand carefully through Sylvain’s hair, wondering what scenario is running through his mind. 

If it’s Miklan, and it often is during times like these, Felix just  _ knows.  _ Call it instinct or what have you, it’s easy to tell when that bastard’s taken root in his mind. It’s got to be something else, and Felix isn’t sure what. Uncertainty gnaws at the corners of his mind, and he knows he can’t just ask. 

Well, he  _ can _ , but it’s going to make it seem like an insensitive ass if he does.

“Do you remember the first time we fought?” Well, damn. That’s unexpected. “I made you cry that day, and I’m sorry.”

“We were stupid kids, Sylvain.” And stupid teenagers, and stupid adults who are still trying to learn. “I forgave you for that a long time ago.”

“I’m still allowed to apologize, aren’t I?” Sylvain’s fingers dig deeper into the back of Felix’s shirt. 

A sigh leaves Felix’s lips as he continues to card a hand through his hair. “For all the dumb shit you did before we got together? It’s not necessary. We talked it out, and we’ve been getting better. It’s not like I’m expecting us to be perfect.”

Whatever’s going on in Sylvain’s mind right now can’t be pretty. While Felix is more than glad Sylvain’s owning up to his less than pretty actions in the past, the extra apologies here feel… hollow. Like he’s trying to apologize for something he didn’t do. 

“I wasn’t the greatest either. I didn’t know the first thing about helping you properly,” he snorts as he offers a small huff, “and look at how long it took us to work shit out. But what matters now is that we have each other.”

Felix sure as hell doesn’t put stock into soul mates or fate, but something about resting in Sylvain’s arms always did seem right. They’re a messy pair with equally messy pasts and terrible coping habits to match. It’s been a journey and a half to reach where they are, and Felix has slowly begun to accept there’s still more to come. 

But if he can weather this by Sylvain’s side, this support system they’ve been able to cobble together, all will be alright.

He takes in a small breath, and lets himself remember how the rest of that terrible, long day went. Terrible as it is to look back on, it illustrates how far the two of them have come. If there’s one thing to be proud of, one thing he and Sylvain can cling to, it’s this.

**\-----------------------------------------------**

  
  


It’s at dinner when Felix finds himself unable to stop himself from speaking. He’s staring into a half-eaten plate, fork trying to pick at a meal he can’t focus on until Glenn asks him why he’s stabbing his food.

“Too spicy for you?” He teases, lightly poking him with an elbow. “You usually eat this up when dad makes it.”

Felix would  _ love  _ to retort that it's not spicy at all,  _ jackass _ , but his thoughts are still on the ugly mass of purples and yellows on Sylvain’s arm. There’s more like that, he knows there are, and it makes the bites of dinner in his stomach bubble uncomfortably. Sylvain’s words echo loudly in his head, churning like a raging storm. Since they were kids, he says -- they still  _ are  _ kids. His thirteenth birthday hasn’t come to pass, and Sylvain’s only fourteen.

...How long has Miklan been doing this? How long have he, Dimitri and Ingrid been blind to everything? Felix grips his fork, tensing up, mind replaying as many scenarios as it can handle. Were the times Sylvain said he was sick the truth, or did he have bruises that he wasn’t able to hide? Did his parents know? Why the hell weren’t they doing anything?

He’s Sylvain’s best friend. Why didn’t he notice this? Why didn’t Sylvain tell anyone? Doesn't he trust any of them? 

“Felix?” It’s Rodrigue who speaks up this time, frowning. “Is something the matter?”

He notices his knuckles are stark white, still clenched over the fork in his hand. He’s scared Sylvain will be mad at him for telling, but it’s better than letting him be hurt. He can’t let his best friend  _ hurt. _

“Miklan’s hitting Sylvain.” Felix sets his plate to the side, uninterested in feigning an appetite. “He told me earlier today.”

Both his father and Glenn stare in silence. They hold the same look he had earlier, wide-eyed fear set on a pale face. Felix shifts uncomfortably in his seat, folding his arms across his chest, gnawing at his lip. 

“And it’s not like rough housing, either.” Felix tries to keep his voice steady, despite how much he wants to cry. “...I saw the bruises. He showed me.”

The fork his father holds clangs to the table awkwardly. There’s an uncomfortable silence that looms over them, with Glenn going to rub Felix’s shoulders, trying to offer some comfort. Felix hates that he’s trying to fight back tears. How can he be strong for Sylvain if he’s crying? Wouldn’t Sylvain hate to see him cry, too?

“How long has this been happening, Felix?” Rodrigue moves closer to him as well, keeping his tone gentle. “Did he tell you?”

“Sylvain said it’s been happening since they were kids.” Oh, that isn’t a pleasant look on his father’s face. “I know. It’s not like he’s an old man.” 

Rodrigue pinches the bridge of his nose, an exasperated sigh leaving him. Felix knows that look, and wishes this was a better situation to see it in. It’s usually worn when he and Glenn accidentally break something in the house when playing swords (one day, his father’s going to confiscate the foam ones they were gifted) or he’s let one of the many curse words Glenn’s lovingly taught him slip from his mouth. This time, there’s more of a worn look in his eyes, uncertainty, and not something a child wishes to see within a parent.

“Does Sylvain know you were planning to tell me this?” Felix isn’t surprised he’s going to ask questions. But there’s going to be so many. 

“No. He told me not to say anything.” Sorry, Syl. He hates breaking their promises, but this one couldn’t stay. “He didn’t want to bother anyone else with it.”

“To bother…” Another sigh, with a shake of the head to follow. “I should assume his parents don’t have any idea what’s happening.”

“I tried to ask.” Felix holds a pretty decent guess as to what the answer would be, anyway. “He didn’t say anything.” He chews on his lip once more in deliberation, eyes still stinging with unfallen tears. “I think they know.” 

  
Rodrigue’s lips press into a thin line at this. Felix’s head lowers towards the floor, finally letting a few stray tears roll down his cheeks. Of all people, why Sylvain? Why did his friend have to get hurt? And why did his parents let him get hurt -- why were they all  _ awful?  _ He sniffles, wiping at his eyes with his arm, trying to will his stupid crying to stop. 

“Glenn,” Rodrigue stands up, looking almost out of sorts, “I have some phone calls I need to make. Watch over Felix, please.”

Felix doesn’t know who he’s going to call, or why. But he hopes those people help, and lets Glenn lead him upstairs. It’s not like they were going to continue dinner anyway. 

“Say whatever you want, okay? Dad isn’t here to get all blue in the face if you curse.” Glenn reaches over to grab the box of tissues, patting his lap. “I know you’re too old for this, but humor me.”

Felix, on any other occasion, would have pouted and sat by Glenn’s side, insisting he isn’t a baby anymore. He feels fragile, however, Sylvain’s distant eyes and words repeating over and over in his mind. It’s not admitting weakness if it’s a scary situation for everyone, right? He’s allowed to cry over this. 

Someone’s hurting Sylvain, and that someone is his older brother. Someone who’s supposed to be his  _ family _ , someone who should just mildly irritate him at worst. With a few shuffles of his feet, Felix sits against Glenn’s lap, rests his head against his shoulder, accepting what’s probably going to be the first of many tissues for the night. 

“Miklan’s a jackass,” he huffs, sniffling, “he’s a piece of shit and Sylvain deserves a better brother.”

“I don’t know how anyone can hit their younger brother.” Glenn rubs his back, shaking his head with a sigh of his own. “Or hit anyone, honestly. And their parents…”

“If it’s been going on for this long, they have to know. Why would they let Sylvain get hurt?” Sylvain’s parents did always strike him as weird. It’s not like Felix was over his house often, but the few instances they met, it was… different. Like they were expecting a lot from him. There’s more to the picture, Felix is positive of that, but he just isn’t sure what. “Why didn’t he say anything?”

“If his parents are letting it happen, maybe he’s afraid of telling people.” Would Sylvain’s parents hurt him too? Felix’s stomach twists at the idea. “This isn’t an easy situation, Felix. There’s no clear answers.”

That’s the worst part of it all: there’s just no answers. Felix knows he would stay up all night if he could at least work out a solution in his mind, something to keep Sylvain safe, away from his terrible family, and no one would hurt him ever again. 

“What’s dad doing, anyway?” Felix scrunches up the tissue in his hand.

“He’s probably seeing if we can take Sylvain under our custody, or something like that. You really think he’s going to let him continue to live with his parents?” Glenn offers him another tissue, moving a hand through his hair afterward. “I don’t think he’d put him through foster care. He’d want him with us.”

If Sylvain lives with them, Felix knows he can protect him. And if anyone would try to hurt him, they’d have him to answer to, and they’d regret it, even if they were bigger and older, even if they were Miklan. It’s nothing but fantasy, since just about everyone would tell him not to even go near Miklan, but Felix wills himself to dream. It’s what the jerk deserves. 

“I want Syl to live with us,” the nickname slips out in front of Glenn, “we’d be able to stop him from doing anything dumb.”

“Oh? Wanna have your crush live literally next door?” He hears a snicker from Glenn, whose fingers jab at his side.

“Shut up!” Felix throws the wadded tissue in his face. “Sylvain is my friend! I don’t like him that way!” He was too young to have crushes, anyway! 

Waylaid by the errant tissue, Glenn flops dramatically onto his back. “Oh, no! I’ve been hit! How can I ever attend your wedding?”

  
“Glenn!” Ugh! He’s the worst! “I thought we were talking about Sylvain!”

  
  
“We are. And your huge crush on him.” Felix’s response is to cross his arms and pout, puffing his cheeks out. 

Felix doesn’t realize it, but Glenn’s doing a perfect job to prevent any further tears from running down his face. It’s the perfect distraction, even if Felix is just thinking about what a big, dumb jerk his brother is at the moment. 

“I just want him to stop hurting.” Felix reaches out for another tissue, mostly to occupy his hands so he won’t pick at the skin on them. “I want dad to help him. He better help him, or I’m never gonna forgive him.”

“He will. If anything, he’s as stubborn as we are.” If anything, the trait is synonymous with the Fraldarius gene. “It’s gonna be difficult, Felix. I won’t lie to you.”

“But it’ll happen.” He’s not sure what he can do, given the fact he’s twelve years old. “No matter what.”

“That’s the spirit.” Glenn ruffles Felix’s hair, giving him a smile. “And don’t feel bad if you need to cry, either. I know you hate it, it ruins your tough guy image, but you went through a lot today. If things get stressful, come to me, alright?”

Felix nods, but knows he still has to become stronger for Sylvain. 

He’ll do whatever it takes.

**\-----------------------------------------------**

“I’m sorry for how I handled things too,” Felix murmurs, and decides to give Sylvain a squeeze, “I know my old man could’ve been… better about it.”

It’s certainly not his father’s fault, given the situation of removing a child from such a terrible household isn’t an easy task. 

“It was the first time I actually heard my parents yell.” This isn’t a declaration Felix likes. “I really didn’t know what to make of it.”

“They never spoke that way to you or Miklan?” Seven hells, it’s been  _ years  _ and every new thing Felix learns makes him hate the Gautiers more. It’s usually good when parents never treat their children in that way, but given who they’re talking about… “I swear I understand them less the more we talk about them.”

“I almost wish they did, sometimes. All the stupid shit I did, all the times Miklan would hit me…” A heavy sigh leaves Sylvain. “It’s as if we didn’t exist in the same world as they did. We were just there to uphold some false image of our family name.”

“I know I don’t need to repeat the sentiment, but fuck them.” What terrible people. As overbearing as his old man and Glenn tend to be, Felix has never been more thankful for their support over the years, especially when it’s regarding Sylvain. “I’m glad we got you away from those terrible people.”

Sylvain finally looks up at him, and it’s evident how  _ tired  _ he is. It does hurt to see, and Felix ends up offering a sigh of his own as he places a gentle kiss on the top of Sylvain’s head. “I’m glad it happened when it did, despite everything else.”

Felix remembers that day as well, and the change it had brought to his and Sylvain’s relationship.

**\-----------------------------------------------**

The day Sylvain’s finally able to leave the Gautiers, it rains. The downpour is steady, aggressive, rolls of thunder drowned out by the arguments they can hear through closed doors.

_ “You are his parents! What in the goddess’ name were you thinking, allowing your children to hit one another?” _

_ “I didn’t ask you to come into my house and lecture on me on how to raise my sons. It’s just how brothers act. Don’t yours rough house as well?” _

_ “Rough housing!? You have the audacity to label it as such when your youngest son has bruises on him -- none that anyone should ever have?” _

“I’m sorry, Sylvain.” Felix doesn’t know what else there’s to say. 

Sylvain’s knees are drawn to his chest, head buried in them, hands pressed over his ears. Not a single sound is heard from him, and Felix wonders if his mind’s even present at the moment. A flash of lightning paints the room in an eerie white, and he swears the other tenses up. It’s a habit Felix has spotted here and there, Sylvain’s way of curling up whenever a storm passes by. 

Felix wants to ask. At the same time, he doesn’t, thinking ignorance may benefit him here. 

“I know you didn’t want me to tell.” He only hopes his words are heard. “But I couldn’t let this happen to you anymore.”

_ “You think I’m going to let Sylvain get taken away from us? Our prized son?” _

At this, Felix frowns deeper. If Sylvain’s their prized son, why do they let him get hurt so often?

_ “Your son deserves more to be some trophy for your family!” _

Sylvain’s always done well in school, Felix notes. Despite the fact that he never studies or seems to land himself detention (and it hits him it’s on purpose and he hates it), his report card has never been shy of bad marks. He wonders, if in comparison, Miklan’s grades aren’t the greatest. There’s too many things gnawing at his mind, and really, this isn’t the place or time to ask. 

“You’re not mad at me, right?” Felix slowly reaches out to place a hand on Sylvain’s shoulder. 

Felix just wants Sylvain to say something,  _ anything _ , to drown out the arguing below. He’s never heard his father yell with such fire behind his voice, and it’s arguably the scariest thing he’s had to witness. It’s scarier that it doesn’t sound natural for Sylvain’s father. Even Miklan isn’t someone he expects it from. No one yells at Sylvain here. They just hurt him in other ways.

There’s just so much Felix can’t understand. 

“Syl?” Felix’s fingers curl into a bit of Sylvain’s sleeve, trying to hide how scared he is, desperate to keep his tone steady. 

When Sylvain finally looks up at him, Felix’s heart shatters, its pieces pooling into his stomach.

Wet tears stain his face, wide eyes rimmed with red as his lip quivers with every attempt to hold back a sniffle. 

It’s the first time he’s seen Sylvain cry, and Felix begins to feel angry and upset with himself. He had to tell his dad, right? He had to get Sylvain away from this place. Even if Sylvain hates him now, it’s okay, Miklan won’t hit him--

“I’m not mad. I promise, Fe.” Sylvain wipes his eyes with the heel of his hands. “Please don’t look at me like that.”

Look at him like what-- oh. Felix finds himself with teary eyes as well. Ugh, how he hates how easily tears always seem to come. 

“I just didn’t want to trouble anyone.” It takes barely a second for Felix’s face to crumple as he throws his arms around Sylvain. “I knew you’d cry.”

“Of course I would, you  _ fool! _ ” Felix curls his other hand into a fist, bunching up some of Sylvain’s shirt. “Y-you dummy! How can you say that? Of course we’d want to help you!” He takes in a deep breath, trying to talk clearly through all the damn tears that just won’t stop. “People are hurting you, Sylvain! Friends don’t let friends get hurt!”

Before another sentence leaves Sylvain’s mouth, Felix’s watery voice interjects. “And don’t say it’s okay either, like you always tend to do. Because this isn’t okay. And that’s why my dad wants you to live with us.”

Sylvain’s head drops into Felix’s shoulder, and holds on like he’s afraid to let go.

**\-----------------------------------------------**

It’s not often Felix reminiscences of those days. Is that even the right term to use -- isn’t there anything he can use that makes it sound less wistful? He’s not particularly fond of remembering  _ why  _ Sylvain hates the rain, and why he has to fight so hard to keep the other with him, to stop him from going hollow.

It’s rare it happens these days, but Felix never likes taking chances when it comes to Sylvain’s well being. He knows every warning sign, the distant eyes that forewarn a shut down, the words that set off red flags in his mind. Yet knowing is only half the battle, and just because they don’t go unnoticed doesn’t mean everything’s fine and dandy, wrapped up with a perfect little bow. It’s difficult. Recovery isn’t linear, and sometimes bad days follow each other, digging their footsteps further into the ground. 

He drifts careful fingers through Sylvain’s hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head afterward. They’re still wrapped under cocoons of blankets, as if they’re adding another layer of protection. Nothing’s going to hurt them, and Felix has to remember that every time they dare to speak of Miklan. 

It’s like they’re kids again, hiding under the blankets from the big, scary world outside. 

Silence follows for a while. Rain continues to patter against their window, the world still grey. Felix has a sinking feeling they’re going to stay in bed all day, and it’s not preferable, but they’re both so  _ tired.  _ Talking about the past further isn’t going to help either, and Felix believes it’s best to make an effort to shift away from it. 

He isn’t repressing anything; he isn’t ignoring the hurt. He’s just had enough of it for one day.

Being overly romantic isn’t something he’s good at by any means (read: he’s terrible), but it’s something that helps Sylvain’s heart warm in moments like these.

“Hey,” he starts, voice soft and familiar, “I love you, Sylvain.” 

It’s not a magical phrase that’s going to make the hurt go away, or act as if it’s never been there in the first place. Right now, however, it’s enough and it’s what the two of them need more than anything. “I love you too.”

The two of them are fairly exhausted, heavy conversation and memories weighing over them in an oppressive air. As predicted, neither of them feel refreshed and rejuvenated after exchanging such a sentiment. At least if they’re going to be like this for the rest of the day, can’t they at least attempt to feel good about something? 

Said something trots into the room, but Felix doesn’t notice at first the more he idly toys with Sylvain’s hair. 

“Oof--” There’s a paw that makes its face onto Felix’s face as there’s a valiant, yet poor attempt to fully wedge between them. “We have a guest.” 

Carefully, Sylvain picks up the wriggling kitten in his arm, and runs his fingers down the tabby’s back. “Hello, Rutger.” In response, the gray mass of fuzz rubs his face against Sylvain’s with a gentle meow.

Felix goes to lie on his stomach now, and dares to let himself smile. If anything is able to pull them out of a foul mood, it’s the sounds of gentle mewls and purrs. 

“That--” Sylvain snorts (it’s almost a laugh, it’s so close) as whiskers continue to poke at his chin, “Rutger, that tickles.”

Rutger’s story is a simple one: the pair was on their way home on a cold autumn afternoon, and the soft, scared mewls of a cat reached their ears. Sylvain was the first one to kneel down, scooping the poor thing into his jacket before looking to Felix. His eyes held a simple question with an obvious answer: should they? 

As if Felix needed any convincing.

Rutger’s been a part of their life ever since, and despite still being young, is rather attuned to their emotions. While he doesn’t know why his fathers hate the rain, he finds his way to the bed every time it storms, rubbing his face against Sylvain’s until everything seems better. Felix idly drags his fingers down Rutger’s back, thinking that he’s such a  _ good  _ cat. It’s no wonder he and Sylvain spoil the little thing endlessly. In a way, Rutger’s become a therapy cat for them both.

Also, he still appreciates the fact Sylvain let him name their cat. At least it was nicer than Glenn about it, who teased Felix over the name. So what if he named their fuzzy son about some swordsman he read about in a book? Nothing changes about how much he adores Rutger, and how much happiness he’s brought to his and Sylvain’s life.

“I don’t think he’ll be satisfied until you smile.” Felix comments, slightly amused by the way Rutger purrs louder as he bumps his face against Sylvain’s. “You should know him well by now, Syl.”

Sylvain rolls onto his back, scooping up Rutger with his hand. Given how tiny the kitten still is, or that Sylvain’s hands are stupidly big, it’s a perfect fit. A soft mewl is heard as he’s brought to Sylvain’s chest, kneading against it lightly. “You’re a good cat, Rutger. I hope you know that.”

He’s met with a louder mewl, as if Rutger’s affirming his very sentiments.

Felix curls in closer, resting his head against Sylvain’s shoulder. “He’s the  _ best  _ cat, and he damn well knows it.”

“I’ll be alright, Rutger,” Sylvain murmurs, scratching behind his ears, “the rain can’t get me here. Felix is protecting me, as are you.”

Careful fingers work their way through Sylvain’s hair, offering more comfort as another roll of thunder passes by. The small flinch on his face is visible, to which Felix places his other hand atop Sylvain’s. Stopping the weather isn’t a possible feat, but Felix can’t help but wish he could will the dark clouds and howling winds away. Turning back the wheels of time isn’t feasible either, neither is undoing all of Miklan’s horrors. All Felix can do is continue to offer himself to Sylvain, and continue to hope it’s enough.

Rutger rolls onto his back now, big eyes meeting Sylvain’s. He mewls again, tail swishing back and forth as Sylvain’s hand goes to scratch his stomach. “Are you trying to tell us something?” 

“I thought you spoke cat.” Felix watches as his little paws bat at Sylvain’s hand. “But I think he wants to do something else other than lie here.” 

Not the best suggestion, considering it’s met with a sigh. There lies the option of playing with Rutger in bed all day, but how much is that actually going to help? It’s doing something, but it just doesn’t feel like enough at the moment.

Felix sits up slightly to glance around their room once more, and gives something of a groan once they come across the television stationed across from their bed. An idea hits him, and it’s not one of his favorites, but it’s going to help.

“How about we watch a movie? I’ll even let you pick.” A pause. “It can be one of those cheesy love ones you like.”

Unfortunately for Felix, Sylvain adores romantic comedies. Guilty pleasure or whatever it is, he’s made Felix watch enough to last him this lifetime and perhaps a few thousand over. The musicals they’ve watched are more preferable (and Felix refuses to admit he still has a weakness for people who can sing), but he isn’t going to deny Sylvain a chance to smile.

Ugh, it’s so  _ cheesy.  _ He can’t believe how sappy this man’s made him. 

“You will?” Sylvain looks over to him with widened eyes. “You know you don’t have to force yourself through them, Felix.”

“I’ll live.” The mood’s already improving some, so at least things are going well. “We both need a break today.”

Rutger chirps happily, and it softens Felix’s heart further. “See? He agrees with me. Are you going to argue with our cat?”

“Guess I can’t, huh?” He scratches behind Rutger’s ears, and Felix is relieved to see a light smile on his face. It’s a tired one, but it’s there. “Just don’t scowl too much if we watch more than one.”

“Shut up.” Felix says this as teasingly as possible. He’s able to peel himself away from Syvlain to get the remote, and works on setting everything up. Even if the worst of the storm seems over at this point, this is a good way to keep them calm.

He joins Sylvain on the bed once more, and makes sure to leave enough space between them both for Rutger. He’s just as important, after all.

Halfway through the movie, Felix’s phone pings. He has a feeling on who’s bothering to send him a message on a day like this, and reaches over to answer it.

_ [hey. sorry i couldn’t get to you sooner. syl alright?] _

Good old Glenn, always checking in on them. 

_ [yeah. we were pretty bad earlier, but we’re okay now]  _

_ [good to hear. how’d you pull yourself out of it this time?] _

Felix suppresses a groan before he types back his answer. He’s going to regret answering him.

_ [i told syl we can watch rom coms together] _

Even typing out the phrase makes him roll his eyes, and fear Glenn’s reply.

_ [holy shit] _

_ [you’re watching chick flicks with sylvain?] _

He’s taking back his earlier thoughts. 

Glenn is the worst. 

_ [shut up] _

_ [i can’t wait to check the netflix history later] _

_ [don’t make me block you, asshole] _

“You’re typing really aggressively, Felix.” Sylvain pats his arm. “Tell Glenn I said hi.”

Felix isn’t sure what’s more humiliating at the moment: Glenn’s taunting, or how Sylvain just automatically knows it’s him.

_ [love you too. i’ll check in with you two later. have fun with your movies, softie] _

Felix has to suppress yet another groan as he sets his phone face down on the nightstand. For all the complaining he could give at the moment, he’s content to keep his mouth shut. 

They got through another terrible day, and that’s what he needs to focus on. Sylvain’s okay, and so is he. This isn’t the last one they’ll have, and with each one, he’s sure they’ll find better ways to cope with things. He’s still not the best with it, and they may never end up perfect, but that’s fine.

If he can manage to make Sylvain smile on every rainy day that comes to pass, that’s good enough for him.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed, make sure to leave a comment/kudos! If you want to hear about future works and rambles, make sure to follow me on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/that_nebbles)


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